大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War website by Marie on behalf of Audrey and has been added to the site with her permission. Audrey fully understand the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

I was 18 at that time and as I had a year to fill before I was launched into my chosen career - nursing - my parents had signed me up for a course in Domestic Science so if all else failed and I married at least I should have some idea of how to cook and keep house. The college - the Buckingham Palace School of Cookery - had been evacuated to Torquay which was wonderful news. But it was now named the National Training College of Domestic Subjects which did not have quite the same ring to it somehow!

Of course cookery was very basic - we had to use dried egg and powdered milk because of the rations and we were very limited and had very little fruit and vegetables also. But we did the best we could and I dare say we were better off than most. And that course helped me a lot in the years to come.
Occasionally - not often as it was quite expensive for us and we had to be back in our hostel by 10pm - some of my friends and I would go down to the Palace Ballroom on the pier to dance. There were lots of American servicemen around at the time and the jitterbug was all the rage - some of my friends had a go at it and were quite good. But not me, no way! Strict ballroom tempo was more my mark. One evening all my friends were on the floor jiving away and I was sitting alone at our table with my lemonade, watching the dancing and a bit worried that some Yank might come up and ask me to dance (jive) I noticed at the next table two pilot officers both with dark moustaches - they looked rather glum and not the sort to ask a girl to get up and jive! They didn鈥檛 look very approachable but there was something I had to ask鈥�.so I thought about it for a bit, then I said to myself 鈥渉ere goes, what have I got to lose鈥� . So I went over and introduced myself. They told me that they were Turkish and at present flying for the R.A.F. They were somewhat shocked by the free and easy manner of us English girls and I鈥檓 sure they were shocked at me boldly coming up and speaking to them. But I just smiled and asked them about their wives and families. The older of the two men seemed to speak the better English - the other one was quiet and just stared at me in shock and embarrassment. I smiled at them and asked the senior pilot 鈥渕ay I have your shirt?鈥� He looked somewhat taken aback 鈥測es鈥� I repeated 鈥渕ay I have your shirt please?鈥� 鈥渕y shirt, my shirt? Why for you want my shirt?鈥� 鈥渨ell you see on Monday I have a laundry exam and I have to wash, starch and iron a gentleman鈥檚 shirt鈥� I had to explain it all over again and he spoke in Turkish to his friend who looked at me in astonishment. But in the end he did agree to let me have one of his shirts and I told him he could pick it up on Monday evening at our hostel. I washed, starched and ironed that shirt to perfection, and wrapped it in tissue paper. He came and collected it and seemed quite pleased with the result. I never saw either of them again - but I did quite well in my laundry exam! Very few of the other girls had managed to acquire a gentleman鈥檚 shirt, mostly they got by by washing a ladies blouse instead!

It was some time later that I learned that in the early part of the war Turkish pilots had flown - as mercenaries - for Goering鈥檚 Luftwaffe. Later when they saw how the war in the air was going, they came over and flew for the R.A.F. who paid more! When I realised that they were Turks I thought what if my dad had taken a pot shot at his dad - he had been an Army captain in the Indian Army and had fought against the Turks in Mesopotamia. Also I had the uncomfortable feeling , what if they were under constant surveillance by MI5.鈥 wondered, was I now?

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